


Nap Time

by taylor_tut



Series: Whump Bingo [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Exhaustion, Gen, Overworking, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, exhausted peter parker, overworked peter, peter just needs a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 14:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: For the Whump Bingo challenge on my tumblr: Peter Parker falling asleep and looking far younger.





	Nap Time

The kid was going to be the death of him, Tony thought. 

Peter had walked in late by twenty minutes, literally with Starbucks in hand. 

“You’re late,” Tony admonished, not looking up from his computer screen. He knew that the moment that he glanced away from the code, he’d lose his train of thought and have to start all over.

“Yeah,” Peter said, his words hanging between breathless inhales that implied that he’d ran here. “I’m sorry. I had to talk to a teacher about--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony snapped, “get over here and look at this with me. I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

Peter shrugged out of his backpack, dropping it lazily to the floor. “Have you asked Reggie?”

Tony grimaced. “Reginald and I are not on speaking terms right now,” he said, pointing across the room at the rubber duck that he’d clearly thrown against the wall. 

“Aw, you didn’t have to take it out on the poor guy,” Peter said, sounding genuinely sad. God, his ability to emotionally attach himself to everything was nauseating. 

“Just get over here before his resting place becomes a mass grave,” Tony threatened. Peter did as he was asked, and as soon as he pulled the chair next to the computer, Tony was able to see just how rumpled and tired the kid looked. His hair was unwashed and unbrushed, and he was drinking coffee--black, from the smell of it, which Peter hated. 

“You know you didn’t have to buy coffee,” Tony reminded him. “I have both a considerable stash of the world’s best beans and a commoner’s Keurig, both of which you’re welcome to use.”

Peter looked, of all things, guilty. “This is from lunch,” he said, “it’s not the reason I was late.”

“Not why I offered,” Tony disagreed cryptically, “but if that’s four hours old, gross. I’m getting you a new cup.” Peter relinquished the paper cup without much fight, training his eyes to the screen in front of him. He blinked heavily, rubbed his eyes, squinted at it. “You good, Pete?” Tony asked, hesitating in the doorway.

“Fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, but it sounded hollow and practiced, bordering impatient. Like he’d already been asked several times that day and was getting fed up with it. 

“Sure, kid.” He knew that pushing a teenager to admit something they didn’t want to talk about was pretty much as plausible as pushing an armadillo to admit something  _ it _ didn’t want to talk about, so he dropped the subject in favor of going upstairs to fix him a cup of coffee.

While he was up there, he realized that if Peter hadn’t had time to stop off for a hot cup of joe on his way to Stark Tower, that more than likely he hadn’t eaten in several hours, either. 

“FRIDAY, what do kids like to eat?” he asked, rooting through his fridge and finding nothing but Chinese takeout leftovers and tuna tartare. “Chicken nuggets? Corn dogs?”

He could practically hear FRIDAY roll her theoretical eyes. “If you are talking about Mr. Parker, Sir, he is a teenager, not a child. Teenagers have the same dietary needs and preferences as an adult.”

Tony thought for a moment. “So… pizza?”

“Pizza is a good choice,” she agreed. 

As a billionaire, pizza took about as long to order and receive as it would take most people just to preheat the oven to pop in a frozen one, so fifteen minutes later he walked back downstairs, a hot pizza box in one hand and a mug of vanilla-flavored coffee in the other. 

“You hungry?” he asked, “I can’t eat all this by myself.” He paused. “Well, I probably could,” he amended, “but I think Cap would wake up in a cold sweat somewhere if I tried.”

Peter didn’t reply, save for a small snoring sound. 

“Pete?” Tony set the food and drink on the table, frowning when he saw Peter slumped over the computer, the screen showing several pages of “SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS” as his cheek pressed against the keyboard.

“Aw, kid,” he muttered. “Wakey, wakey!”

Peter startled awake, already stumbling through an apology. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he fumbled, “I just--didn’t get much sleep last night. I had a paper due and I just--”

“Shut it,” Tony cut him off, and Peter did that so fast that Tony could hear his teeth click together. “You’re going to eat this pizza, then drink this coffee, then nap on that sofa,” he said, pointing. It was not an offer. It was an order.

“Mr. Stark, that’s not necessary,” Peter argued, “I can work. I just need some caffeine and I’ll be good to go.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, then pointed to the couch as if he were commanding a bad puppy to get in its cage.

Peter had never eaten pizza so nervously in his life, but the nap was  _ awesome _ . How was Tony’s stupid lab couch more comfortable than Peter’s own bed? 

He woke up and stretched, somewhat startled when the snoring that he could hear didn’t stop, but he put two and two together when he saw Tony asleep at the computer. 

Well. Maybe a little nap here and there wasn’t such a terrible thing after all. Maybe Tony needed it just as much as Peter did.


End file.
